


Closer

by DeliaIsNotMyName



Category: Dark Avengers (Comic), Dark Wolverine (Comics)
Genre: A Daken character study through someone else's POV, Adult Language, Bad Guy's POV, Implied or Pre-Slash Daken/Johnny depending on how you look at it, M/M, Non-Explicit Hate Sex, Screwed-up Bullseye/Daken, UST that gets resolved, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-05
Updated: 2012-11-05
Packaged: 2017-11-18 01:57:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/555607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeliaIsNotMyName/pseuds/DeliaIsNotMyName
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Lester had seen some fucked up things in his fucked up life, so walking into his kitchen to see a dead man eating the last of his pudding didn't even make the top ten list."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tangerine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangerine/gifts).



> Takes place after Daken: Dark Wolverine #23 but before all the X-Force stuff.
> 
> There's violence and language in keeping with the canon source and characters. I hope that's okay.

Lester had seen some fucked up things in his fucked up life, so walking into his kitchen to see a dead man eating the last of his pudding didn't even make the top ten list.

"Miss me, baby?" Daken said, wearing that lopsided smile on his face that always made Lester want to either: A) cave his skull in or B) push him against the wall and fuck all the infuriating out of him before caving his skull in. But thinking about option B just made Lester very, very angry, so he settled for pulling a knife from his new magnetic knife rack and getting ready to throw it right between Daken's eyes.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't slice you open right now." Lester felt a thrill to imagine it: Daken gutted open, blood and entrails leaking out of him.

"If you do, we wouldn't be able to resolve this incredible sexual tension between us."

Lester threw the knife. Daken threw a plate to deflect it and dodged behind the table. Lester grabbed another knife and dived down to the floor after him. A scuffle, two more broken plates, and a bloody nose later, Lester finally had Daken on the ground. A knife was pinned through the Daken's shoulder as Lester straddled his chest.

"No Osbourne to keep me from killing you now," Lester said with a grin. "Any last words?"

"I've got money," Daken said, that stupid, infuriating smile on his face. "You're a mercenary, aren't you? Want to make some easy cash?"

Lester twisted the knife that was buried in Daken's shoulder. Daken groaned in a way that was thoroughly, satisfyingly painful... or maybe not. The guy seemed to be something of a masochist... he sure did let himself get beat up an awful lot. Really, it wouldn't be a surprise to find out that he actually enjoyed all the pain. Could you be a sadist and a masochist at the same time? Lester frowned at the thought. "Keep talking," Lester said.

"A cool hundred thousand," Daken said. "Just for letting me hide out here."

Lester could make more than that for a job, but not for something so easy. He pulled the knife out of Daken's shoulder and was rewarded by another groan and a small fountain of blood. "Fine." He stood up as Daken rolled away.

"Admit it," Daken said, and somehow he was right behind Lester when he said it. "You're just happy that I'm around."

Lester should have grabbed a spoon and spun around to stab Daken in the eye with it. Instead, he stood still, a little confused, as he felt Daken's body heat behind him and Daken's breath in his ear. And then Daken was spinning away, off to eat the rest of the fucking yogurt, leaving Lester to think about how sometimes he really hated himself. He rubbed at the back of his neck where it seemed to be burning, and tried to act like the little shit didn't have any effect on him. Daken didn't mean anything. Daken was nothing. The guy liked to picture himself as some kind of Machiavellian villain, but really he was just a druggie loser with daddy issues, not even worth Lester's time.

"Next time you die," Lester said, "do the world a favor and stay dead."

He stomped up the stairs to his bedroom.

The next time Lester saw Daken in was in his living room, where Daken had covered the fold-out table with all sorts of radio equipment and machinery.

"What the fuck is-"

"Shhh," Daken said, holding a finger up to his lips. "Listening in on some old friends."

Well, whatever. In their world information was power, and if Daken had someone bugged, it might end up doing Lester some good to listen in, too. Lester ignored the fact that Daken was wearing only a pair of too-tight boxer briefs, and slunk on over. The subject of the conversation, for whoever it was Daken was listening in on, was unfortunately Daken.

"-not sure it's a priority. We have other things to concern ourselves with."

"Reed's right." And that was Daken's old man for sure, the gruff voice was unmistakable. "We all got more important things to deal with. We don't got time to go looking for a dead person."

"He's not dead!"

Huh. Lester could guess who that voice, overconfident and annoying in the way that every frat boy Lester had ever killed was, belonged to. Even more surprising than the exclamation was Daken's reaction to it. It wasn't anything big. Lester wouldn't have even noticed anything if he hadn't been used to watching Daken. His jaw tensed and his eyes went blank, huge tells for someone whose poker face was usually a smirk or a grin.

"We never found a body." Storm's voice again. "We never found even a part of a body. He set up the explosion, he could have set up a way out of it."

"Even if he's alive, guy's a psychopath." This was a new voice. Lester thought that maybe it belonged to tall, orange, and ugly, but he couldn't be sure. "He'd have no problems killing any of us in a heartbeat."

"He would, because he didn't. He didn't kill any of us, despite everything he said, just like he didn't bomb Wolverine's school."

"Idiot," Daken snarled, before shutting off the system by jamming his claws through it.

Exhibit one on how much of a stupid shit Daken was. Lester figured that when the good guys thought you might be one of them, you used it to your advantage. You didn't get mad about it. It just confirmed in Lester's mind that Daken was the superhero equivalent of a rich kid slumming it. All he needed to do was make one phone call to Daddy and the superhero community would welcome him with open arms. No, he only played with the bad boys, because it would piss off Dear Old Dad. Pretty pathetic, for someone in their sixties.

"What's wrong?" Lester sneered. "Just figured out your boy toy's dumb as a bag of bricks?"

And what was this? Daken actually got _angry_ for a second, jumping off his feet and slamming Lester into the wall with his claws against his neck. Lester inwardly grinned. He had actually managed to get to Daken. Usually it was Daken taunting him, Daken getting him angry, Daken's mere presence making him confused. It was so satisfying to see the shoe on the other foot. But as quickly as Daken's anger had come, it was gone, and a leer took over his face as he slid his mostly naked body up close to Lester's.

"Jealous?" Daken asked. He moved one of his legs between Lester's legs, rubbing up on a part of him that didn't seem to hate Daken as much as the rest of him did.

And Lester figured that this was a moment he could take to shake up Daken again. He grabbed the back of Daken's mohawk and yanked him in for a kiss. Daken tensed for maybe a second, a second that had Lester doing victory laps in his mind, before it turned into an actual kiss. A messy and violent one, with teeth and biting, and Lester pulling so hard on Daken's long hair that his neck was close to snapping in two. From there they were pushing and pulling each other all over the room, into the coffee table, and up against the couch. There were crashes, and broken furniture, and the very, very rough handling of limbs. All Lester could think was _hurt_ , _fuck_ , _get off_.

When it was done, when his living room looked like a disaster area, and they were both cut, bloody, and bruised, Lester felt like he was going to throw up. Even the sight of blood running Daken's legs wasn't enough to cheer Lester up. This probably had to do with the facts that: A) Daken looked like that cat that caught the canary, B) the healing factor, which Daken had apparently somehow gotten back after the Heat drug had taken it away from him, meant he hadn't hurt Daken as much as he wanted to, and C) two words: masochistic tendencies. Shit.

"Cigarette?" Daken asked, reaching for a box that had somehow ended up on the floor.

Lester made a disgusted noise before going to take a scalding hot shower. The worst part of being around Daken was sometimes feeling like you had played right into his hands. Not that it stopped them from fucking again, several times, over the course of the next several days.

But all bad things came to an end, same as good things. And for Lester it happened on his way home from killing some turncoat the local mob wanted dealt with. Easy pay. He went into his house via the kitchen, but froze and grabbed the nearest object when he heard people talking in the foyer.

"You couldn't leave well enough alone, could you? How'd you find me, anyway?"

"Yeah, like I don't have any connections, being a member of the most famous family in the world and a popular man about town."

Fucking Johnny Storm.

"You know, you're not as famous or popular as you think."

"Tell that to the ladies."

What a fucking joke. Making sure to keep very, very quiet, Lester crept around the corner to peek into the foyer. And there was Storm, standing close but not too close to Daken, but looking like he wanted to stand closer. Daken was leaning against the wall all relaxed, unguarded, and cozy-like, and what the hell was that about? Was this some game he was running on Storm? For that matter, why the hell did a boy scout douche like Storm care so much about a psychopath killer like Daken?

"What are you doing?"

"Oh, you know me. I like to have my hands in a lot of pots."

And what the fuck was that smile on Daken's face? It wasn't taunting or sneering or anything like that. It was just a smile.

"Daken... "

"Maybe just one big project. That you don't have to worry about it."

Daken's hand landed on the waistband of Storm's jeans and Storm, fucking Johnny Storm, womanizer extraordinaire and all-around good guy, acted like it was completely natural for it to be there.

"So I'm alive and we should celebrate. Let's go get a drink and talk about why you should keep this to yourself."

"Daken... "

But Daken was already leading him out, almost leaning against him as they walked away and the door closed behind them.

The first thing Lester did was go pack up his things. If Storm followed Daken here, he might know about Lester's connection to the place, and Lester wasn't going to wait around for the Fantastic Four to show up and cart him away. It was time for another hidey hole, anyway. But what the fuck had just happened? He told himself that Daken was just playing Storm, that he was just scheming like usual, that their camaraderie was just an act, but... somehow Lester didn't believe it. There was something to that smile on Daken's face, something to how relaxed he was around Storm. Something that really pissed Lester off.

He left the house as soon as he was ready, determined not to think anymore about Daken fucking Akihiro.


End file.
